Page 32 of The CEO I Hate

I hit a full roadblock on the third floor.

A couch was wedged across the stairwell landing like it had been dropped there by a helicopter. What in theFriendswas happening?

“Mrs. Franklin?” I called out, craning my neck to see around the armrest.

I bumped into Mrs. Franklin on occasion in the elevator with her tiny Pomeranian or in the laundry room while her massively overconfident grandson Earl stripped down to his tank top to flash his guns at me. He wasn’tbadlooking, but he was way too full of himself, and at age twenty, I seriously doubted he had the experience to be anywhere near the Lothario he wanted to be.

“Hi, Mia,” she said, hands on her hips as she caught her breath.

“What’s, uh, going on here?” I asked. Because it sort of looked like she was trying to haul the couch up the stairs with Earl. Blocking the only route to my apartment. The one place I wanted to be so I could complain to Sophie about how horrible dinner had been.

“Annika in 304,” Mrs. Franklin said. “You know Annika?”

I shook my head.

“Well, she got a job overseas and is moving out. Said we could take her couch for free! Can you believe that?”

“It’s practically brand new,” Earl cut in, flashing me a wide, sleazy grin. “Perfect for cozying up on.”

Somebody save me.

“We’re just trying to get it up to the fifth floor,” Mrs. Franklin said. “But it’s stuck.”

“Pretty sure the stairwell is narrower up here,” Earl added.

“Oh, well, let me help,” I said, handing over the bag of yearbooks to Mrs. Franklin. She was very spry for a seventy-five-year-old, always telling me about her hot yoga classes, but she’d also been talking about needing a knee replacement surgery for ages. Probably from all those years of go-go dancing in the seventies.

“You’re sure?” Mrs. Franklin said.

“I insist. Earl and I can handle it.”

He smirked, giving me a wink. “We sure can.”

Ew. “Calm down, Romeo,” I muttered, squeezing myself past the couch to grab the front end while Earl positioned himself at the back.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, you ready?”

“Just prepare yourself for the gun show, Mia.” Earl flexed his biceps dramatically before lifting his end of the couch. “These babies don’t just lift weights. They also lift?—”

“Right now, I’d settle for lifting the couch,” I groaned. This sucker was heavy.

Earl grinned, unfazed. “Anything for you, girl. You know, they say heavy lifting is great for bonding.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Who says that?”

“Me,” Earl said. “Just now.” He winked again. It was so exaggerated I thought maybe he’d gotten dust in his eye.

“Earl, less talking and more lifting, okay?”

He hoisted the couch up, immediately backing into the wall. He let out anoomph.

“You need to turn and lift,” I said. “To get it over the railing.” He did, half-balancing his side of the couch on his head. “Watch your end,” I called.

“Don’t worry, I’m watching my endandyours.”

I rolled my eyes.

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